


Out of Love

by Arwriter



Series: Learned Behavior [15]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Drowning Mention, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Minor Violence, Miscommunication, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past manipulation, Protective Family, sympathetic everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:55:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwriter/pseuds/Arwriter
Summary: 5 times Virgil went to someone after a nightmare, and 1 time someone came to him.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Learned Behavior [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918165
Comments: 39
Kudos: 249





	Out of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the longer wait for this one!

**1.**

This was so  _ stupid.  _ Virgil had dealt with nightmares his whole life, and he’d always handled them alone. Tonight shouldn’t be any different. He didn’t need any help. 

Then again...he’d never had anyone offer before. The only people he’d had access to had been the ones giving him nightmares in the first place. 

Virgil had hoped the dreams would start to go away now that the light sides had promised him safety, but they kept attacking just as viciously, his own strangled screams waking him up at least once a week. 

He was used to it. Tonight it was just...a little too much to handle. 

He’d dreamt that they had come back for him, furious and vengeful, grabbing at him from under the bed, wrapping their hands around his throat, dragging him back to the deeper parts of the mindscape where no one would look for him-

And now Virgil was scrambling out of bed and slipping out into the hall before he could talk himself out of it, holding his breath as he crept through the hall. He’d slipped on his hoodie as soon as he’d been woken up, an old post-nightmare habit, so used to the hoodie being his only source of comfort. 

He moved slowly, tensing up whenever the floor would creak under his weight, fully prepared to run back to his room and hide if he heard footsteps. 

The light sides had only recently found out about what the Others had done to Virgil, and he didn’t  _ think  _ anyone would go back on their promise not to hurt him (at least not yet) but...he’d had a couple of bad experiences when it came to accidentally waking someone up in the middle of the night. It usually ended with Virgil limping for the next few days. 

But he found himself outside Patton’s door, shivering with his arms wrapped around himself, suddenly feeling like a small, pathetic child no one should want around.

Why was he such a selfish  _ asshole? _ Was he actually considering waking Patton up in the middle of the night because he’d had a stupid  _ dream?  _ It was probably the quickest way to show everyone how horrible he really was, and lose their kindness forever. 

But...but Patton had  _ offered.  _ They all had once he’d opened up about his frequent nightmares, but Patton had pulled him aside separately, making sure Virgil understood that he was always welcome in Patton’s room if he needed anything. 

Virgil had never asked for help with this before. Maybe...maybe it was time he did. Just this once. 

Patton had told him not to knock- he tended to be a heavy sleeper and the noise probably wouldn’t wake him up, so all Virgil had to do was open the door, step inside and quietly call Patton’s name. 

He wouldn’t get in trouble for it. Patton had  _ said  _ it was ok, he wouldn’t get hurt or screamed at for waking him up. Unless it was a  _ trap- _

God, he was being ridiculous. If someone wanted an excuse to hit him, they didn’t need to trick him. It wasn’t like he would fight against it. 

Besides, Patton wasn’t the type to set a trap or play mind games. And Virgil...Virgil really didn’t want to be alone right now. Not when it felt like the second he turned around he’d be grabbed by the throat and dragged back into the shadows. 

So he took a breath and turned the handle, stepping inside Patton’s room and carefully closing the door behind him. 

The bedroom wasn’t completely dark, a tiny lamp on the dresser giving off the faintest glow, just enough for Virgil to see where he was going as he crept towards the end of the bed. 

He didn’t want to be a burden, and he didn’t want to risk being treated like a helpless child, but…

“Patton?” The lump on the bed stirred but didn’t wake. Virgil inched closer and wrapped his arms tighter around himself, willing himself to relax and breathe normally.  _ “Patton.”  _

“Wha--?” The blankets were pushed aside as Patton blearily sat up, squinting across the room. “Kiddo? What’s wrong?” 

He reached for his glasses on the bedside table, and Virgil instinctively took a step back. “Sorry, I’m- I’m sorry to wake you up I just...you- you said I could if I needed you and I...I thought--” 

“Oh, Virgil of course you can.” Patton stood up from the bed but didn’t move forward, hands held out in front of him. “Do you want a hug?” 

Virgil nodded quicker than he probably should have, but it was hard to dwell on that when Patton’s arms were suddenly around him like a blanket, keeping him safe and warm as he fell against the moral side’s chest. 

“You’re safe,” Patton said and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could believe that. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Virgil. I’m right here. Dad’s here, you’re ok.” 

Virgil took a shaky breath and did all he could to ground himself, breathing in Patton’s scent, focusing on his voice, eyes wandering around to scan the familiarity of his room. 

The Others couldn’t get to him here. They weren’t powerful enough to get to this part of the mindscape at all, and they definitely couldn’t get into Patton’s room.

“S-sorry again,” he managed after a moment. “For waking you. Just...a stupid dream.” 

Patton pulled back to look at him, and Virgil reluctantly dropped his arms. “Do you wanna go to the kitchen, kiddo? I can make you some tea if you’d like.” 

Virgil’s first instinct was to say no, to gracefully back away and hunker down in the corner of his room until the panic went away. He didn’t get to ask for these things, for comfort or love or care. Anxiety didn’t deserve that. 

But...but it sounded really  _ good.  _

He gave a hesitant nod, searching Patton’s eyes for anger and annoyance that never came. The parental side just smiled, slipping his hand into Virgil’s and quietly leading him downstairs. 

Virgil thought he may have zoned out for a moment, still overwhelmed and exhausted, but he found himself seated at the kitchen table, Patton setting down two mugs and squeezing his hand as he sat beside him. 

“Thanks,” he said, carefully wrapping trembling hands around the drink, still keeping a wary eye on Patton’s movements. “You...you really don’t have to stay up, I’ll be fine.” 

“Would you prefer it if I stayed for a bit?” Patton asked, and Virgil hesitated before nodding sheepishly. “Then I’ll be here as long as you need.” 

Virgil had done a good job at not crying tonight, but Patton always made it difficult to hold it together. He was so genuine, and the warmth he brought wasn’t something Virgil was used to. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Virgil shrugged, taking a small sip of his tea. “It’s...stupid. I’m just being a baby.” 

“You’re not,” Patton argued. “I went to Logan after a nightmare just last week. Roman and Logan go to each other or to me all the time. It’s normal to be scared sometimes.”

Virgil glanced up, hesitant, tightening his grip on the mug as he tried to figure out if Patton was telling the truth. “I just...I’m supposed to protect  _ you.  _ And- and I’m always so  _ weak,  _ I can’t--” 

“Kiddo, you are the  _ farthest  _ thing from weak.” Patton scooted closer, just enough to comfortably hold Virgil’s hand. “You’ve been through a lot and...I don’t know all the details but I know that nobody should go through this alone. Asking for help takes a lot of bravery, Virgil.” 

Virgil scoffed and looked away, but he didn’t let go of Patton’s hand. He was pretty sure  _ Anxiety,  _ who flinched at every sudden movement and spiraled into a panic attack if someone so much as looked at him wrong, couldn’t be described as brave. 

That was just one of the reasons he’d been hated so vehemently. He was a little coward, and his weakness was bound to get on everyone’s nerves eventually. Even if Patton seemed to disagree for now. 

But the parental side was telling the truth, even if Virgil didn’t quite believe the things he said. And maybe this could help, he’d never actually gotten to talk about his dreams before. 

“I, uhm...lately I’ve been dreaming about them coming back for me,” he admitted, barely a whisper. “I- I know it’s stupid to assume they  _ want  _ me around but...but they lied about you guys to- to keep me there s-so they could keep hurting me.”

They always got so angry when he just tried to run to his  _ room,  _ he couldn’t imagine what kind of punishment he’d be put through if they got to him after he’d left for  _ weeks.  _

“They...they were in my room,” he continued, wiping his eyes as his vision went blurry. “They got into my room and- and they were grabbing me and dragging me away from- from you guys. They wanted to- they wanted to take me back and they were...they were so  _ excited  _ to hurt me again. They...th-they always hurt me so  _ bad,  _ Pat.” 

A few tears slipped through despite how hard Virgil tried to keep them back, face burning red as they slid down his face. He curled in on himself, shuddering when he felt Patton wrap an arm around his shoulders, gentle and grounding. 

“I know, baby,” he said softly. “And I’m so sorry. I am so _sorry,_ Virgil.” 

Virgil choked back a sob, now desperately clutching at one of Patton’s hands. “I don’t want to go back.  _ Please  _ don’t make me go back.” 

“I would  _ never.”  _ Patton’s hand was suddenly under Virgil’s chin, carefully guiding his head up. “You will never  _ ever  _ go back there, kiddo. As far as your old dad’s concerned, you’ll never even  _ see  _ them again.” 

Virgil leaned into the touch, fingers still laced in Patton’s free hand. “What if...what if they try to- to--” 

“They can’t get to you anymore,” Patton said. “They can’t even get to your room now that you’ve moved up here with us. You’re safe.” 

“But what if they  _ do?”  _

“Then we’ll be right there to protect you. Just like you always protect us. I’ll hold you and I won’t let go until they’re gone, ok? I promise, nothing will happen to you.” 

Virgil could only manage a tiny nod, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden barrage of new tears as he pulled away to rub his eyes. 

“Ok,” he said shakily when he found his voice again. “I- I know they can't, I just...I just can’t stop thinking sometimes.” 

“It’s ok to be scared,” Patton assured. “But we’re right here with you, and we won’t go anywhere.” 

Virgil wasn’t sure how long it took him to speak again, thoughts running wild and throat suddenly painfully tight, but Patton didn’t rush, and he didn’t leave. The moral side sat right next to him, hand now on his knee, his presence probably the only thing keeping Virgil from breaking down. 

“Thank you,” he managed. “Y-you...you can go back to bed, Pat. I’m...I’ll be fine. I didn’t mean to keep you up this long.” 

He wasn’t sure what he’d meant to do at all but he couldn’t deny that despite the lingering distress, he was still much more calm than he usually was after a nightmare. He wondered if Patton would protest doing this again one day. 

“I can stay as long as you need me,” Patton said, frowning slightly when Virgil looked away. “It’s early...do you think you’ll be able to go back to bed?” 

Virgil shook his head, deciding it was best not to lie. He tried to feel optimistic about Patton letting him stay on the couch with the TV on until morning. Lying alone in the dark, completely vulnerable and defenseless wasn’t ideal, but he would only feel isolated and cold if he went back to his room. 

“I won’t be able to sleep,” he muttered. “I’ll just...think they’re in my room the second I close my eyes. I know it’s dumb but--” 

“Why don’t you sleep in my room, then?” 

It was asked so plainly simple that for a second, Virgil thought he was being mocked. He still found himself pleasantly surprised that no one seemed to mind even hugging him (the Others had drilled it into his head a long time ago that the only kind of touch he should expect was violence) but Patton hadn’t even hesitated, the offer clearly genuine. 

“Are...are you sure?” he asked, trying not to think of how wonderful and  _ safe _ that sounded. “You don’t have to--” 

“Don’t be silly!” Patton was suddenly taking his hands and gently guiding Virgil to his feet, letting go only for a moment to put the half full mugs of tea in the sink. “This way I’ll be right there if you have another bad dream, ok?” 

He was offering his hand again, smile bright despite the sleepy look in his eye. Too bright to be some sort of elaborate trick, Virgil decided, and carefully took his hand. 

Patton’s room, when it was peaceful and still like it was so late at night, had an almost soothing effect as soon as Virgil crawled into bed. Or maybe that was just Patton pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. 

“Try and get some rest, kiddo,” he said. “I’ll be right here. You’re safe.” 

He still doubted he would be able to sleep, but he found it didn’t really matter when Patton offered to let Virgil lay his head on his chest, wrapping his arms around the anxious side’s back. Laying in the dark, listening to Patton’s heartbeat and his breathing even out, Virgil couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed. 

**2.**

Virgil felt the wall against his back, trapping him with nowhere to run, and he cringed away from the presence looming in front of him. 

He didn’t know when he’d slid to the ground, hunched over in a pathetic little ball on the kitchen floor. He’d spilled his drink on the counter just seconds ago, whirling around at the sound of footsteps too fast, only able to watch helplessly as some of the liquid had sloshed over the edge, and--

“Virgil.” 

That was Patton, the moral side suddenly crouched in front of him. Patton...Patton wouldn’t be angry. It had been an  _ accident,  _ and Virgil was going to clean it up. 

“Hey, kiddo it’s ok.” His voice was still light, gentle as ever, and Virgil willed himself to relax. “Can you look at me, Virgil?” 

Virgil shut his eyes for a second and focused on telling himself he was okay. It was just Patton; kind, careful, gentle Patton who had never hurt him before, who had always promised he never would. 

They’d done this same routine time and time again. Patton would coax him into breathing more evenly, then ask for Virgil to look at him so he could tell him he was safe. This time wouldn’t be any different. He knew that. 

So, holding his breath just a little, Virgil opened his eyes and let Patton gently tilt his chin up, meeting the parental side’s eyes. 

Eyes that were cold, closed off...and  _ angry. _

Before Virgil could even think twice, a loud  _ SMACK  _ sounded throughout the kitchen, and the anxious side had fallen on his side on the floor, the left side of his face stinging with a familiar jolt of pain. 

Virgil’s entire world stopped spinning in that instant, eyes wide but unseeing as he sat there in shock, holding his upper half off the floor with his arm.

What...just  _ happened?  _

“Virgil, look at me.” Patton’s voice, still soft and just a foot in front of him, made Virgil’s whole body go tense. That previous moment of frozen, numb shock was replaced with icy, cold terror.

Patton...kind, careful, gentle,  _ Patton _ ...just  _ hit  _ him.

Virgil must have really messed up this time. 

_ “Virgil,”  _ Patton said again, the softness just slightly shadowed by a hint of sharpness this time. His tone made Virgil flinch on instinct, and he was quickly sitting up again, keeping his head down and doing his best to keep his breathing as quiet as possible. “Look. At.  _ Me.” _

Virgil curled his hands into tight fists and quickly stuffed them in his pockets from his hunched position on the floor. He stared at the tile by his feet, vision going blurry, and found he was completely unable to move, despite his mind screaming at him to follow instructions. 

Virgil’s shoulders shook as he fell into a string of apologies, but now it all felt so  _ real.  _ He wasn’t just overreacting this time. His apologies actually  _ mattered  _ now, determining just how bad his coming punishment would be. 

Fear and panic had a choking hold on him like it hadn’t in months, the weight of the sudden change making Virgil want to vomit. “I-I’m sorry, P-Pat I’m sorry I didn’t m-mean to- I promise I can c-clean it—“

A sharp gasp interrupted Virgil’s babbling, the sound pulled from him when harsh fingers suddenly gripped his chin and yanked his chin up. He heard his neck crack and pain shot down his back, but he hardly noticed it. His eyes had closed themselves tight before he could think better of it.

“Did I tell you to apologize, Anxiety? Because I  _ thought  _ I told you to  _ look at me!”  _

Patton didn’t sound like Patton anymore, nothing sweet or soft about his voice. Virgil, biting back a sob that sat as a lump in the back of his throat, opened his eyes to meet the ones staring him down. 

The side staring down at him with steely rage and hatred might have looked like Patton, but...but this was not Virgil’s Patton. This was no longer Virgil’s Dad.

And clearly, it was all Virgil’s fault. 

As soon as the new Patton saw Virgil’s tear filled eyes open, his mouth twisted into something resembling a smile. It wasn’t a real smile, that much was obvious with the lack of usual cheer and love in it. The movement was stiff and showed too much teeth, and his lips pulled in the wrong way. It was familiar, and it shook Virgil to his very core, a whimper escaping before he could catch it.

_ “There  _ you are,” the new Patton said, almost in a purr. “Now, I’d get to cleaning up this mess if I were you.” 

Before Virgil could even process whether or not that was a threat, Patton’s other hand flew up to grab the collar of Virgil’s shirt, nearly lifting him off the ground. A choked sob was the only sound Virgil made when he was then shoved backward, stumbling and falling until he smashed back first into the oven.

The glass oven door shattered into pieces on impact, pain shooting through the back of Virgil’s head, his shoulders, and all over his arms and hands where tiny pieces of glass cut his skin.

Virgil just slumped when he hit the floor, leaned against what used to be the oven door and surrounded by countless tiny bits of glass. He felt the warmth of blood as it began to trickle down his arms, but aside from that, Virgil was numb.

Sharp, unrecognizable laughter came from somewhere above him, but he had no more strength, no will to look up and see one of the people he’d learned to trust, learned to believe would never hurt him, laughing at his pain.

His fragile hope was gone, heart fallen and shattered. There was no way anyone else would believe Virgil’s side of the story, not when held against Patton’s. They would side with Morality, the side everyone loved and trusted, and they’d decide Virgil had just fucked up one too many times. 

Maybe they’d send him back to the dark side where he belonged, back with Wrath and all his cronies. At least they knew how to handle a monster like him. 

Or maybe they’d keep Virgil for themselves, now that they saw how stupid and useless he was. Their kindness and acceptance had been nice, but Virgil always knew it couldn’t last. Perhaps they’d still offer little bits of kindness sometimes. Maybe he could still get those warm hugs from Roman if he was extra good. 

But either way, it didn’t matter. Everything was over, Virgil’s streak of being good enough to stay in their good graces broken. 

And it was all his fault. Of  _ course  _ it was, it was  _ always  _ his fault, and he should have known  _ no one could ever really- _

Virgil shot up with a strangled gasp, choking on the sob rising up in his chest, the room tilting slightly as everything came into focus. 

He was...in his bed. He was in his bed, in his own room. There was no glass, no blood, no pain from the slap...

Because it hadn’t happened like that.  _ It hadn’t happened like that.  _

God, what was wrong with his head? How could he ever come up with something so horrible? 

The first part  _ had  _ been real. He’d spilled his drink on the counter just the other day, and Patton had walked in on him panicking and apologizing and promising to clean it up. 

The moral side had responded like he always did; kind, careful, and gentle as he softly talked Virgil into slowing his breathing and assuring him everything was alright, that no one would hurt him. He’d pulled Virgil into a hug, helped him clean up the small mess, and moved on like nothing had happened. 

Patton hadn’t been angry, and Patton hadn’t hurt him. 

Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed and nobody would hurt him, it had just been a nightmare. A stupid, horrifyingly realistic nightmare. For a moment he’d actually thought...

Virgil shoved his blankets aside, the sheets tangled in his legs, reaching for his phone with trembling hands to check the time. It was barely 6 on a Saturday morning which meant Logan would probably be just waking up, everyone else dead to the world for another few hours. 

He really shouldn’t ask for help over something like this. All these months, all the time and effort everyone put into helping him, and he  _ still  _ let things like this bother him? 

His stupid fear of someone getting fed up and breaking their promise could easily be the last straw, just one useless annoyance too many. Especially for someone like Logan, who would instantly point out the flaws in Virgil’s logic and tell him just how ridiculous he was being. 

Maybe...maybe that was what he deserved right now. As much as he hated it, ridicule was something he was used to. 

Virgil slowly slid out of bed, still a bit unsteady on his feet, and figured he might as well clean himself up and get dressed. 

He wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep. Not when every time he closed his eyes he could see Patton looking down at him, cold and furious, raising his hand to strike--

Virgil was...god, he was  _ awful.  _ They were so good to him and here he was, still managing to scare himself with things like this. Patton would be heartbroken if he knew. Virgil couldn’t tell him, as much as he’d love his gentle reassurances right about now. 

The mindscape smelled like coffee by the time Virgil put on his clothes and haphazardly applied his eyeshadow, so he wasn’t at all surprised when he found Logan at the kitchen table with a mug, the logical side staring at the early morning sky through the window.

He apparently wasn’t as quiet as he’d been trying to be, Logan turning around with a raised eyebrow before Virgil even made it through the doorway. 

He managed a small smile, pulling his hoodie tight around himself as he made his way over to the coffee pot. “Morning, Lo.” 

Virgil could feel Logan staring at him, the room silent as he held his breath and reached for one of the plastic mugs, desperately trying to shove the memories of his nightmare to the back of his mind. 

“Good morning,” Logan said, steady and collected as ever. “Are you feeling alright? You’re not usually up this early.” 

Virgil shrugged, carefully pouring the coffee and hoping Logan couldn’t see how badly he was shaking. “Just, uh...couldn’t get back to sleep. Sorry- I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.” 

“No need for that. You know I enjoy your company, Virgil.” 

It was said offhandedly, and Virgil knew Logan probably had no idea how much little comments like that meant to him. 

Logan wasn’t staring like he’d had feared when he turned back around, but Virgil suddenly found himself frozen again, hesitating in between the counter and the table. 

Logan wouldn’t be upset with him. He might be a bit brutal pointing out each and every flaw in Virgil’s thinking, but...he’d promised he’d get help when he needed it, and he wasn’t sure he could talk to Roman or Patton about this one. 

“Logan?” He cringed when the logical side glanced up at him. “Can...can I talk to you about something? It can wait if it’s too early, but--” 

“Of course you can,” Logan said, completely ignoring the second part of Virgil’s ramble. “Is something wrong?” 

Virgil shrugged, not really sure how to answer that without scaring him. He cradled his mug and moved to sit across from Logan, taking a moment to try to calm his racing mind and get his thoughts together. 

“I...I think I’m a bad person.” 

And that was definitely  _ not  _ how he’d planned on starting this conversation, but at least it was easier than jumping around the issue until Logan gave up. The logical side always liked to be straightforward. 

He heard Logan shift, and Virgil suddenly couldn’t bear to look up, staring down at his coffee to avoid whatever look of disappointment or exasperation the logical side was sending him. 

“I am inclined to believe that is false,” Logan said after a moment. “Can I ask what led you to this conclusion?” 

Virgil almost smiled at how careful Logan’s tone was, the voice he used when he was trying  _ so  _ hard not to let his lack of social skills get in the way of helping. He was taking that tone more and more lately. 

“I just...had a nightmare,” he said, cheeks flushing red at how stupid he probably sounded. “About- about Patton.” 

There was a beat of silence before Logan responded, still surprisingly calm. “About Patton getting hurt? Or Patton...hurting you?” 

Virgil winced, clutching his mug so hard he thought the plastic might bend. “I...yeah. Patton, uhm...Pat hurt me. In the dream. He was mad at me for spilling a drink and he...he hit me and pushed me into...into glass and....and  _ laughed.”  _

The Others had done that more times than Virgil could count- shoving him into shattered glass shards of whatever he’d broken (or even if someone  _ else  _ had broken it) cackling when he just ended up injuring himself trying to stand up. 

“I see,” Logan said, and Virgil tensed, bracing for the worst. “It was just a nightmare, Virgil. No one is mad at you.” 

“I know,” Virgil muttered. “I’m...I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry?” Logan repeated, sounding strangely taken aback. “I fail to see what you could have to apologize for.” 

“I- I had a dream about Patton  _ hitting  _ me.  _ Patton.”  _

“We cannot control our dreams,” Logan said. “Not even Roman can do that. It would be illogical to fault you for them.” 

Virgil shook his head. “That’s not the  _ point.  _ I- I used to have these dreams...kind of a lot. But- but I  _ know  _ you guys now. You’ve all done so  _ much  _ for me and I’m still...I’m still  _ scared.  _ Why can’t I stop having these thoughts?” 

Logan took a moment to respond, and Virgil hoped it was because he was taking time to find a good answer and not because he was pushing down his anger. 

“How long was Wrath violent towards you, Virgil?”

Virgil hoped the way he winced at the name wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “I...I don’t know. Always, I guess.” 

“Long enough that you cannot even remember when it started,” Logan said, and Virgil nodded. “Virgil, you have only been living with us for six months. You are simply adjusting to a vastly different lifestyle.” 

“But I  _ know  _ you won’t hit me,” Virgil argued, silently noting that his coffee had probably gone cold by now. Which was fine, he was pretty sure he’d vomit if he tried to put anything in his stomach. “I...I haven’t exactly been easy to deal with. If you were going to hurt me you...y-you would have done it by now, right?” 

He risked a glance up to briefly meet Logan’s eyes, the logical side watching like he was solving a strange puzzle. “You were being abused. That’s over now, but you should not fault yourself for still having those fears.”

The Others had tried so hard to make sure Virgil stayed afraid of the light sides, of Janus and Remus, always working to convince the anxious side that if he opened up to them he would only get hurt even worse. He was safest where he was. 

And Virgil had fallen for it. 

“I don’t get why you’re being so...nice about this.” 

Logan tilted his head slightly, brow furrowing behind his glasses. “Why would I not be?” 

“Because...” Virgil trailed off, putting his own trembling hand on his leg to keep it from bouncing. “Because it’s not...you know.  _ Logical.”  _

“Ah.” Logan took a sip of his coffee, perfectly calm like this was an ordinary morning. “Your fear of us changing our minds is, in a sense, irrational, so you were expecting ridicule rather than understanding, correct?” 

“I guess.” Virgil shrugged, wishing he could sink into his hoodie and disappear forever. “I don’t want to be babied, Logan. I get it, I’m...fragile, or whatever but when I’m overreacting or- or being an asshole you guys can  _ tell  _ me.”

“Fragile?” Logan repeated, and he sounded almost...amused? “Virgil, if you were fragile we would not be having this conversation. You would not have survived the things you did.” 

Virgil scoffed, fidgeting with his sleeves. He couldn’t look at Logan anymore. “I don’t think surviving was up to me, L.” 

Virgil winced when he heard Logan stand up, chair screeching against the kitchen tiles when he pushed it back. He kept his head down and his shoulders hunched, wondering if he'd finally managed to drive the other side away. 

But Logan only moved to Virgil’s side of the table, lowering himself to the chair next to the anxious side. When he carefully put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, it was slow enough that he had time to pull away if he wanted, but the touch was warm and grounding, and Virgil felt the tension seep away for just a moment. 

“You’re in charge of Thomas’s fears,” Logan said, like this was new information. “His fight or flight response, correct? Your job is to keep him safe from the unknown.” 

Virgil blinked, the confusion enough to make him lift his head. “Uh, yeah?” 

“And I am in charge of Thomas’s logical reasoning--”

“Dude, I know what our jobs are,” Virgil said. “What does this have to do with anything?” 

Logan gave a small smile, gently squeezing his shoulder. “It’s about you expecting yourself to think logically when a majority of the time, you are fundamentally unable to do so. It goes against your function.” 

“I...I try to.” Virgil swallowed, shifting under the weight of Logan’s stare. “I  _ do  _ know that I’m not gonna be hit. It’s just...it’s hard.” 

“Your reasoning is often...overshadowed by your fears. But anxiety doesn’t diminish intelligence, Virgil. There is nothing wrong with you, and I will  _ never  _ degrade you for something you cannot control. You were conditioned to fear us. You are not a bad person for needing extra help. Do you understand?” 

Virgil clenched his jaw, because he’d gone this long without crying and he really wasn't in the mood to break that streak. Not in front of Logan, whose words always managed to unravel something tight in his chest. Logan never said anything if he didn’t believe it was true. 

“Yeah,” he said, small and resigned. “I wish...I wish I wasn’t like this.”

Logan’s hand moved to cup Virgil’s jaw, and the anxious side leaned into the touch. “I wish you hadn’t gone through what you did. But I can assure you, we like you the way you are. We want you to feel better, that doesn’t mean we want to change you.” 

Virgil didn’t have a response to that, eyes suddenly watery as he furiously blinked back tears, but Logan thankfully didn’t seem to expect him to say anything. He moved once more to give Virgil’s shoulder another squeeze before getting up to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee. 

They did eventually end up in their usual post-nightmare position, tucked away in Logan’s room with Virgil's head in the logical side’s lap, some documentary about space playing in the background while Logan ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair. 

It was grounding and familiar, and even if Virgil couldn’t sleep he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now. 

Later that morning, when Virgil emerged to find Patton making waffles with an ungodly amount of whipped cream, the nightmare didn’t even cross his mind. 

**3.**

_ ‘Come home, Anxiety.’ _

Virgil couldn’t breathe. He flung open his door and stumbled out into the hallway, barely even able to comprehend what he was doing, his own frantic breathing drowned out by the voice still lingering from his dream.

_ ‘Stop running like a coward and come back where you belong.’ _

He wasn’t here, he  _ wasn’t  _ here. Virgil was with the light sides. No one could hurt him here, they’d all promised he’d never see the Others again. 

But he could  _ feel  _ Wrath behind him, breathing down his neck and hissing in his ear, hands poised to clamp around Virgil’s wrists to hold him hostage, trap him as he was dragged back to the people who only wanted him to hurt. He wouldn't leave, wouldn’t be quiet, threats and jeers growing louder and louder until--

Virgil skidded to a stop when he made it to his destination, chest tight from his quick and shallow breathing. He didn’t waste any time, desperately knocking on the door, pressed up against the wood and muttering panicked pleas under his breath like that would get him an answer any quicker. 

“Please, please please...please, Roman  _ please--”  _

Roman’s door swung open so suddenly Virgil almost toppled right into the Prince, just barely catching himself enough to scramble backwards into the hall. 

“Virgil?” Roman’s eyes were tired, but still managed to shine with obvious surprise and worry. “What’re you--?”

“He- he’s  _ here,”  _ Virgil stammered, and he  _ knew  _ how stupid he sounded but he still couldn’t find the courage to even turn around. “He won’t...I- I can  _ hear  _ him and he won’t...he won’t let me  _ leave.”  _

Through the haze of fear Virgil could see Roman’s eyes clear, the Prince straightening as he stepped forward to scan the hallway. “Who? Virgil, who’s--” 

_ “Wrath.”  _ Saying the name out loud felt like drinking acid, bitter and painful as Virgil wrapped his arms around himself. “I was...I think I was dreaming and he- he just...he won’t leave me  _ alone.”  _

And suddenly Roman was in front of him, shushing him gently with his arms held out in front of him, eyes soft and welcoming. For just a second, Wrath’s voice was quiet. 

_ ‘Get back here, Anxiety!’  _

Virgil flinched and surged forward, letting out a broken sob when he felt Roman’s arms around him, pulling the anxious side close to his chest. He couldn’t stop shaking, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggled to grab onto the material of Prince’s shirt. 

“S-sorry.” It was barely audible, but Virgil could never get rid of the guilt that came with having to wake someone up. “I just- I just n-needed you.” 

Roman tightened his hold, suddenly every bit the strong hero he told tales of being, a shield around Virgil to keep him safe from his past. 

“I’m here,” Roman said, steady and sure, everything Virgil couldn’t be on nights like this. “I’m here, I’m right here. He can’t get to you.” 

“He...he’s gonna  _ hurt me--”  _

“No he won’t,” Roman said, swaying them both gently where they stood. “I won’t let him. He’s not here, Virgil. He can’t get you here.” 

_ ‘They’ll hurt you worse than I ever could. It’s what you deserve.’  _

Virgil choked on his own sob, cringing away from the cold whispers in his ear. It wasn’t real, he wasn’t  _ real.  _ “R-Roman make him...make him  _ stop.”  _

One of Roman’s hands was moving to cup the back of Virgil’s head, fingers gently carding through his hair, holding him against the Prince’s chest. Virgil could hear his heartbeat in his ear, steady and real. 

“Focus on my voice,” Roman said. “Focus on me, Stormcloud. Just listen to my voice and copy my breathing, alright?”

“H-he...he’s--” 

“He’s not here,” Roman promised. “Whatever you’re hearing isn’t real. It was just a bad dream, Stormcloud, just a dream. You’re safe. I’ve got you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” 

Roman used to be so  _ hostile  _ towards him, and Virgil had responded in kind because it was his job to be the villain. He’d been terrified to be alone with the Prince, always waiting to be struck down worse than ever before. 

And that was what the Others had tried so hard to get him to believe. Wrath had used Roman as an example, pointing out every insult, sneer, or cold glare. Roman hated him, and if Virgil ever tried to leave, ever tried to open up, the punishments he would receive from Prince alone would be worse than he could even imagine. 

Wrath had told Virgil he was doing him a favor, claiming to keep him  _ safe  _ from the light sides, scowling as he dragged Virgil by his  _ broken arm-- _

_ ‘You’re so fucking worthless, Anxiety. Will you shut up and stop begging? Nobody wants to hear your voice!’  _

Virgil clutched tighter at Roman’s shirt, desperately trying to block out the memories. “Sorry, I’m s-so-sorry, I’m so  _ sorry.”  _ He wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to anymore. 

_ ‘Anxiety, stop talking! Just shut your mouth and take it!’  _

“Virgil, look at me.” Roman had moved back slightly, both hands now cupping Virgil’s face, and he hesitantly opened his eyes. “There you are, Sunshine.” 

_ ‘You’re such a disgusting little freak!’  _

Roman had called him ‘Sunshine’ once before, so long ago he’d forgotten about it. Back then it had been cold and demeaning, another way to belittle and bring down a villain, but now it was warm and gentle. It was home. It was everything Wrath never wanted Virgil to have. 

_ ‘Shut up! Just shut up and go away, no one wants you here!’  _

“Hey, stay with me,” Roman said, and Virgil realized he’d started to space out. “Focus on me, Virgil, you know how desperately I need the attention.” 

Virgil made a choking sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and for a second Wrath was silent. “H-he- he’s...h-he was al-always so mad at- at me.”

“I know,” Roman said, soft and soothing as his thumbs wiped away some of Virgil’s tears. “But that’s in the past. He isn’t here, because I wouldn’t let him get anywhere near you. They’re just memories, Virgil. He can’t hurt you.” 

_ ‘You’re so stupid, Anxiety! Why can’t you do anything right?’  _

Roman was smiling gently, eyes painfully worried as he ran his thumb along Virgil’s cheekbone. “Try and copy my breathing, alright? Just keep focusing on me. You’re safe.” 

_ ‘You’re the worst out of all of us! There’s a reason everyone calls you a villain.”  _

“I’m right here with you,” Roman whispered, a thousand times louder than Wrath’s screams. “Breathe with me, ok? You can do it.” 

Virgil nodded, breaths still coming in as too fast wheezes and gasps. Roman moved to guide one of Virgil’s hands to the Prince’s chest, letting him feel it rise and fall. 

Roman began counting out the breathing exercise, Virgil latching onto the familiar pattern like a lifeline. Roman’s eyes never left his own, keeping him tethered to the present. 

He didn’t know how long it took, everything a hazy blur, but he was eventually able to take in a full breath, shaky and small as it was, slowly matching Roman’s pattern. 

Virgil was still trembling, eyes wide and watery as he held onto Roman, but the dream was already fading along with Wrath’s voice. 

“There you go,” Roman said, smile looking a bit less forced and panicked now. “You’re ok, Hot Topic. You’re ok.” 

“Thank you,” Virgil muttered, suddenly humiliated and exhausted. “I’m- I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. You don’t have to apologize, you know you can always come to any of us if you need help. I’m glad you did.” 

Virgil hadn’t even thought about where he was going, moving only on the panicked instinct to get away before Wrath caught him. 

And despite the rocky start to their friendship, Roman had been the first person to ever promise Virgil safety. Despite Wrath’s lies and twisted stories about the Prince, Virgil felt safe with him, protected like he’d never gotten to be before. 

Roman was suddenly moving to put a hand on the small of Virgil’s back, light enough that he still felt like he could easily twist away if he wanted. 

“Come on,” he said softly. “You wanna sleep in here tonight?” 

He did. Sleeping in the same room after someone had a nightmare wasn't at all uncommon, but nobody else had unexpected meltdowns in the hallway in the middle of the night. 

“I...y-you don’t have- have to.” God, he couldn’t even get it together long enough to  _ speak  _ properly. 

The Prince looked unbothered, though, and led him further into his room with just the smallest of pressure on his back.

“Nonsense, Virgil. If a dashing Prince to keep away the nightmares is what you need, a dashing Prince is what you’ll get.” Keeping up his streak of always knowing just what to say, Virgil was finally convinced that he wasn’t bothering Roman, just this once, and let himself be led to his fellow side’s bed.

Safely tucked under a deep red, velvety comforter, with the soft glow of fairy lights above him, Virgil slept peacefully with only brightly colored dreams for the rest of the night.

**4.**

_ He was going to drown.  _

Virgil couldn’t move, limbs locked firmly in place no matter how much he tried to twist or kick. He couldn’t make out anything but the water high above his head, too murky to see anything beyond. 

_ Don’t take a breath don’t take a breath, just hold out a little bit longer. _

There was something wrapped around his throat, pressing down against his skin to keep him down. Virgil doubted he would be able to move even if the weight lifted, his body heavy and useless beneath the water. 

_ He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe he needed to get out-  _

He wasn’t floating- he could feel the surface beneath him, painfully digging into his back like it was trying to meld with his skin and trap him forever.

He wanted to scream-  _ he couldn’t, there was no air, no way for him to make a sound to cry for help-  _ chest tightening unbearable, something cold wrapping around his lungs and  _ squeezing  _ the life left out of them as they begged for air. There was a ringing in his ears, louder and louder until it sounded more like the piercing shriek of someone dying. 

_ He needed air, please he just needed a second of air please let him up please-  _

He didn’t know why he wanted to beg so badly. The water was getting darker, cloudier, and there was a sharp pain in his head that felt like a knife chipping away at his skull. 

_ Please, please he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t- _

The weight on his throat tightened without warning, wrapping around his neck like a snare, and Virgil distantly recognized the all too familiar feeling of fingers locked around his throat. 

He gasped before he could stop himself, before he could remember  _ why he was supposed to hold his breath-  _

He felt the water rushing in, cold and biting as it flooded his mouth and throat. His lungs seized as he choked and screamed against the flood, everything dark and soundless, the water only helping to weigh him down. 

_ Virgil?  _

There were more hands now, grabbing at him where he lay helpless, watching him while he struggled against the water, watching him while he drowned, roughly taking his arms and  _ pulling- _

“Virgil!” 

And suddenly the water was gone, Virgil’s eyes flying open as he was pulled forward, shaking and gasping and...completely dry. 

There was no water, no fingers around his throat, just two hands holding him up off the couch where he’d apparently fallen asleep. 

“You good there, Virgey?” 

Remus was in front of him, hands fisted in the cloth of Virgil’s hoodie, eyes brimming with a rare look of concern before it was quickly replaced with an all too familiar grin when he noticed Virgil looking back at him. 

“Sure sounded like an exciting dream,” the Duke teased, the suggestive tone a bit more forced than usual. “Care to share the juicy details?” 

He was giving Virgil an out, a way for him to scoff and shove Remus aside if he just wanted to be alone. He was helping...in his own Remus-like way. 

Virgil might have played along any other time, grateful for the escape, but right now his chest still felt tight, throat throbbing like something had been clawing at it. He could still feel the water in his mouth, in his ears, leaving him blind and breathless, screaming for help doing nothing but letting more flood in. 

He wasn’t drowning.  _ He wasn’t drowning.  _ It was a dream, just a stupid  _ stupid  _ nightmare and he was completely fine. He was safe. There was nobody here to hurt him. 

He  _ knew  _ this, and yet he couldn’t seem to calm himself. The sound of slightly muted laughter, barely audible from above the water, rang in his ears and echoed in his head. He could hear them, right above him, holding him down and mocking how utterly  _ pathetic he is- _

“He _ llo?  _ Fifty Shades of Purple?” Remus’s voice sliced through Virgil’s panic like a warm knife through butter, effectively snapping him out of it long enough to get a grip on reality again.

He was sat on the couch now, Remus waving a hand in front of his face from right beside him. At some point, Virgil had apparently pressed his hands firmly to his ears and pulled his knees to his chest. 

The living room was completely silent, save for Remus, who was grinning at him with a slightly too wide smile. It was clearly strained, and the Intrusive Side’s eyes shone with concern. Virgil slowly moved his hands from his ears to be able to hear Remus better as he continued. “Did I lose you for a second? You were completely spaced out, like a deer about to get hit by a car.”

Virgil sucked in a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from the other side to try and shake off the lingering tightness in his chest. “S-Sorry- uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to- to do that.” Virgil took a second to realize he’d started shaking out his hands, the stimming helping to ground him, but he quickly stopped when he felt Remus staring. 

“Sorry,” he said again, aware he just sounded like a broken record, but his chest was growing tight again, breaths speeding up as the panic set in. “Sorry, I’m- I’m sorry I didn’t--”

“Woah woah, slow down there, Emo.” Remus wasn’t grinning anymore, toothy smile gone in favor of a genuine look of worry. He moved to put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, quickly pulling away when the anxious side flinched. “Shit on a stick, uh...ok, hang tight I’m gonna go get someone who’s not a gory train crash at this.” 

Remus shifted on the couch, and Virgil was reaching out to grab at the Duke’s sleeve before he could stop himself. 

“Please don’t,” he managed, voice unbearably unsteady. “Don’t- don’t leave me alone, Remus please stay,  _ please.”  _

Remus paused, turning back to look at him in shock, but that only lasted a moment before he was moving again. “Alright alright, don’t get your intestines in a twist.” Remus sat back on the couch, his knees brushing Virgil’s ankles. “I’m not going anywhere. I just figured you’d want someone more...you know. Comforting.” 

Virgil shook his head, doing everything in his power to lock onto the voice and not slip into his own head again. He was pretty sure if he was left alone on the couch right now, even for just a few minutes, he wouldn’t be able to pull himself out of his own head. 

“I just...I- I can’t be alone,” he said, eyes on his own lap. “S-sorry I- I need to know that I’m...here.” 

“I get it,” Remus said. Virgil wondered if his voice was ever this quiet around anyone else. “Grounding and shit, right? You like...need me to hold your hand?” 

Virgil swallowed and nodded, despite being sure Remus had half meant it as a joke. “S-sorry.” 

“Don’t sweat it,” Remus replied, reaching over to squeeze the anxious side’s free hand. Virgil felt his chest loosen a bit at the contact. “You’re just lucky I washed my hands today.” 

Virgil choked out a laugh, tightening his hold when he still couldn’t stop the incessant trembling. 

This was real. He could feel Remus next to him, his hand locked around Virgil’s own. He wasn’t drowning, he wasn’t being held under, it had just been a dream. A nightmare twisting an old, distant memory. 

Remus blew a raspberry, the sound unwittingly clearing Virgil’s head a bit more. “Uh...wanna talk about it? You can, but I can’t promise I won’t make any sex jokes. Was it gross? Did somebody die?” 

Virgil scoffed, wondering why that sounded less terrifying right now. Maybe if it had been the usual bloodbath, it would be easier to forget about, to file away as just another nightmare. 

“Not this time,” he said. “I was just...drowning.” 

“Drowning?” Remus echoed. His face twisted but somehow, Virgil didn’t feel like he was being judged. “Seems kinda boring. You’ve been through way worse.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

He’d never...talked to anyone about this before. It had stayed as something private, something he was content to bury and ignore, something nobody would ever have to see. And yet here he was, honestly considering opening up to the embodiment of intrusive thoughts. 

Well, Remus had always been a steady presence in his own way. He was different, but sometimes that was what Virgil needed. 

“Virgey?” The Duke called, his grin returning. “Did I lose you again?” 

Virgil shook his head, taking a small, shaky breath. There wasn’t any other choice than to be upfront and direct with Remus. 

“You know,” he said, like they were having a casual conversation. “I don’t take baths.” 

Remus laughed, shrill and sudden, and the shock of it pulled a smile from Virgil. “Me neither! Being clean is overrated, I don’t get my brother’s obsession with--” 

“Jesus-  _ ew.  _ I take  _ showers,  _ I’m not gross.” 

“Boring.” 

Virgil rolled his eyes, but he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to look at Remus when he continued. “I...I can’t take baths. Anymore. He used to...he used to hold me under so I just. Can’t.” 

There was a beat of heavy silence. “What the  _ fuck?  _ Who?” 

Virgil wished he could curl up in a ball and disappear, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of Remus’s hand. He sort of doubted Remus would let him. “You know who.” 

“I’ll kill him,” Remus snarled, and his grip on Virgil’s hand tightened without warning. “I’ll fucking kill him, Virgil, I’ll  _ kill him.”  _

“Remus, it’s ok--” 

“It’s not!” Remus snapped, and with his free hand Virgil dug his nails into his own palm. “He tried to  _ drown you?”  _

Virgil shrugged. “I...I think he only did it a couple times.” 

“You  _ think?”  _

Virgil flinched back, shoulders hunched almost to his ears. “I-I can’t remember, I’m s- I’m sorry, please I’m--” 

“Shit, fuck- ok, ok it’s fine Virge, I’m not mad. You wanna do one of those breathing exercise things? Those help you, right?” 

Virgil nodded, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, hating how quickly he was able to fall back into panic. He was probably making Remus more than uncomfortable. 

But the Duke was taking his other hand, his grin dropping a bit as he ducked down to meet Virgil’s eyes. 

“Ok, I can do that,” he said. “Can you tell me how it goes again?”

Virgil nodded quickly, pushing away the feeling of ice cold water in his lungs, of hands pressing down on his throat, of  _ laughter-  _

“Four...f-four seven eight,” he managed, wincing at how pathetic he sounded. “S-sorry--” 

“Don’t start that, Hallo-wiener. Breathe in for four seconds, right?” 

Virgil nodded, his hold on Remus’s hands now embarrassingly tight, but the Duke only grinned in response and began the familiar counts.

“Okay, breathe in for four- one...two...trees...floor...knives- Oh wait that’s five.” He winced, but quickly continued, “Now hold for seven. One...two...pee...four...knife...sex...sever.” 

As he counted, Remus tapped his finger against the top of Virgil’s hand, keeping him from slipping back into the abyss of his own thinking again. “And now breathe out. One...sewage...fleas...apple core...beehive...hex...seven...ate- eh, that last one is more of a written joke.” He frowned and looked to check on Virgil, tilting his head at him curiously. 

“Sorry for changing the words. Numbers are boring...need me to do it again?”

Virgil shook his head, although he’d done more laughing than breathing during the exercise. He felt significantly less cornered though, because this was  _ Remus.  _ He was eccentric, a bit demented, but he was safe. He’d never hurt Virgil, especially not as a punishment. 

“I’m good,” he said, voice still small but definitely more steady than before. He pulled one of his hands free to wipe at his eyes. “I’m fine, Remus, I swear. Sorry to, uh...freak out on you like that.” 

“Nah, I get it,” Remus assured, flexing his free hand. “I’ll keep the death threats between me and Roman.” 

Virgil scoffed, averting his gaze to pull his hoodie tight around himself and glance around the empty living room. He usually didn’t have nightmares when he fell asleep on the couch...well, so much for that. 

“Fuck nightmares,” he muttered, freeing his other hand to scrub over his face and run through his hair. “Everything sucks.” 

Remus frowned, watching the anxious side curiously. “I’m not good at the whole comfort thing at  _ all _ . Do distractions help? You wanna go dissect something? It doesn’t even have to be alive!” 

And maybe it was the exhaustion talking, maybe he was really just desperate but...that actually sounded kind of fun. 

He used to be so  _ scared _ of Remus, terrified of his unpredictability and morbid jokes, convinced that he was just as full of hatred for Anxiety as everyone else. The Others had filled his head with false promises and threats, only cementing that belief. 

God, he’d been an idiot. Remus’s influence wasn’t always  _ good  _ for Thomas, but he was as far from evil or cruel as the rest of Virgil’s family. 

Remus was still staring at him, eyes wide and hopeful with a slightly lopsided grin, and Virgil wondered how he could ever have been so afraid of him. 

“A distraction might be good,” he said, smiling at the way Remus’s eyes lit up. “If you’re like...ok with that.” 

Remus jumped up from the couch, stopping and waiting for Virgil to follow at a slightly slower pace. “Of course! I’m always happy to entertain my favorite emo.” 

He winked, offering a hand as the anxious side made it up off the couch. Virgil rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be dragged down the hallway, the lingering memories of his dream drowned out by Remus’s chatter.

**5.**

Tonight, Virgil had dreamt they’d taken him back. 

He’d failed, Thomas had gotten hurt because of his negligence, and they’d finally given up on him, picking him up and dragging him right back to the Others, to the darkness and abuse, like a stray dog they’d accepted would never be tamed. 

They’d left him there, tired of showing kindness to such a pathetic failure. 

Virgil knew how ridiculous it was, legs pulled up to his chest and hood resting over his eyes as he sat on his bed, waiting for the apathy in his family’s eyes to fade from his mind. It was just a dream, he knew that. 

They would never take him back, no matter how awful he was. Everyone had forgiven him for countless mistakes already, and even when they  _ were  _ mad at him, there had never once been any threat to kick him out. 

Besides, Thomas was fine. He wasn’t in danger, he wasn’t injured, and there was no looming threat. It was the middle of the night, and he was sound asleep like he should be. 

Virgil should just try to go back to sleep and hope his brain was done tormenting him for the night. The dream wasn’t nearly bad enough to justify waking someone up- he’d been able to slow his breathing down on his own after he’d jolted awake. 

He knew Thomas was safe and yet…

What if something had happened while Virgil was asleep? What if Thomas had been hurt, or had missed something important, all because Virgil couldn’t do his job right? His  _ one  _ job. 

Virgil huffed, shoving the blankets away and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. This was childish and pointless but...well, if he got caught he could blame it on being the literal embodiment of anxiety. Stupid as it was, the extra reassurance might be the only thing that would put him back to sleep.

He stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets, took a shaky breath and put all his focus into sinking out of his room and appearing in Thomas’s bedroom, careful to make it just inside the door to make as little noise as possible. 

The bedroom was dark, silent beside the electric fan in the corner that helped Thomas sleep. Virgil steadied himself, hand against the wall as he scanned the room, keeping his breathing as quiet and shallow as possible. 

Thomas was perfectly fine, just like Virgil had known he would be. He was very much alive, the blankets rising and falling in time with his even breathing, finally getting the proper night’s sleep he deserved. 

Despite how he’d known, rationally, that nothing had happened, Virgil suddenly felt dizzy under the wave of relief, fighting the urge to sink to his knees and stay there for the rest of the night. 

He was fine- everything was  _ fine.  _ He didn’t need to keep lurking in the corner of Thomas’s room like a creep, he could sink out, go back to his own bed, and pretend like nothing ever happened. He’d probably forget about it in the morning, anyway. 

But...but what if this was the universe testing him? What if the second he looked away something horrible would happen? What if his dream came true and Thomas got hurt because of  _ him- _

Jeez, he needed to calm down. Thomas was safe, and no one was going to take him back to the Others. They would have done it by now if it was even an option. The nightmare hadn’t even been  _ that bad.  _

The alarms in his head were blaring, every instinct telling him Thomas was in danger,  _ they were all in danger-  _

Ok, so maybe going back to bed wasn’t an option right now. Nightmares always did make him extra paranoid. 

Well, it was his job after all. A few moments of keeping watch might put him at ease for the rest of the night, and Thomas couldn’t be upset with him if he never knew. 

So he leaned back against the wall beside the door and slid to the ground, still just able to make out Thomas asleep on the bed, pushing aside the thoughts of how pathetic this made him look. 

He just needed a few moments. A few moments to take in the silence of the room, to reassure himself once again that there was nothing to worry about, nothing that could harm Thomas. 

The exhaustion from the few hours of restless sleep was setting in full force now that he was sitting down, lethargy making him feel hazy and distant, but he quickly blinked away the fog in his head. 

He was here to protect Thomas, not fall back asleep. It didn’t matter that Thomas’s presence helped him to calm down. 

But despite how uncomfortable the floor was, Virgil hunched over to let his forehead rest on his bent knees, he found it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open, slowly lulled to sleep by the comforting sound of Thomas’s breathing. 

_ “Get up! What’s wrong with you?” _

Someone was standing above him, eyes blazing with fury, hands curled into fists. Why wouldn’t they just leave him  _ alone?  _ Why was everyone always so  _ angry?  _

_ “You stupid, stupid piece of shit! Do you even have a brain in that thick skull of yours? Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you slacked off again?”  _

Virgil tried to back away as they took a step forward, only to find himself cornered against something solid, keeping him trapped and defenseless. 

“I- I didn’t--” His voice sounded echoey and distant to his own ears. “I didn’t  _ do  _ anything.” 

Another step forward, and it was like the temperature in the room dropped, frigid and cruel.  _ “Say that again, Anxiety. Say that to me one more time.”  _

Virgil swallowed, so numb it almost felt like he was floating. “I- I’m sorry, I’m  _ sorry _ I- I don’t know what I  _ did.”  _ He could barely hear himself over the racing of his own heart. 

There was a laugh, bitter and cold, but the other side didn’t come any closer.  _ “You never fucking learn, do you? Come here, you little coward.”  _

Virgil couldn’t move even if he wanted to, frozen where he sat on the ground, everything far away except for the all consuming panic in his gut, familiar fear and dread coiling around his chest. 

“I- I didn’t--” 

_ “Anxiety,”  _ they said.  _ “Come here.  _ **_Now.”_ **

Virgil couldn’t move, couldn’t focus long enough to keep his breathing under control, pressed up against the wall in a trembling heap, a sickeningly familiar position. 

The other side scoffed, disgust and hate dripping from their voice, and Virgil's stomach dropped.  _ “Oh, you’re dead, Anxiety. You’re so fucking dead!”  _

They started forward, their footsteps deafening and their anger blinding, and Virgil could only shrink back and squeeze his eyes shut as a hand reached out to grab him-

“Virgil?” 

He jumped, choking on a panicked gasp as his eyes flew open, the real world flooding in all at once, Thomas’s bedroom coming back into focus. 

And now Thomas was in front of him, hair disheveled from sleep and eyes wide with worry, his hand now hovering just above Virgil’s shoulder. 

Oh. Oh  _ shit.  _

“Virge?” Thomas asked again, barely above a whisper. “You’re ok buddy, you’re ok. It was just a dream, it was just a bad dream. Can you hear me?” 

Virgil nodded, pushing down the sob trying to force its way up his throat. It was just a dream, it was just another  _ stupid  _ nightmare. A nightmare he’d had on  _ Thomas’s floor.  _

He’d stationed himself here to protect him, to make sure nothing bad could happen, and he’d just ended up waking Thomas up. He was probably furious. 

“Y-yeah,” he said, realizing he was still hunched over like he was expecting a blow. “Sorry, s-sorry I’m so sorry Thomas you can go back- back to bed, I’m sorry--”

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” He sounded so gentle, albeit a bit tired and confused. “You’re fine, Virgil, you’re ok. You’re safe, I’m not upset.” 

Virgil hunched his shoulders, only hating himself more when he couldn’t stop the tears pooling in his eyes. “I- I woke you up.” 

“That’s ok,” Thomas said. “I’m not mad, I promise. You just startled me for a second. I heard you, uh...apologizing in your sleep a little.” 

Virgil winced. “Sorry.” 

“I’m not mad,” Thomas said again. “You were having a nightmare, it’s not your fault. But, uh...do you  _ usually  _ sleep on my floor?”

Virgil shook his head, despite being aware enough to pick up on the lighthearted tone. “N-no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I- I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

“It’s ok.” Any other time, Virgil might have hated how overly gentle Thomas was clearly being with him. Now, he couldn’t even express how grateful he was for it. “Can you tell me what you were doing? Were you...coming to ask for help with a nightmare?” 

“No!” He hadn’t meant to answer so quickly, but he  _ couldn’t  _ let Thomas think he was that selfish. “I wouldn’t wake you up for that, Thomas. God, I  _ swear _ I wouldn’t. Not- not on purpose, I wasn’t--” 

Virgil cut himself off when Thomas finally lowered his hand to rest on the anxious side’s shoulder, the touch warm and grounding, even through the cloth of his hoodie. He sent Thomas a wary glance, earning a soft smile in response. 

“You know you could, right?” Thomas asked, and he looked...sad? “You can come get me if you need me.” 

Virgil shook his head, refusing to let himself fall apart in front of Thomas. He’d already messed this whole thing up. “I can’t. I can’t do that to you.” 

Thomas furrowed his brow, scooting a little closer on the floor. “Of course you can, bud. Why do you think--” 

“I’m  _ not  _ doing that to you,” Virgil choked out. “I- I already hurt you so much, and- and you  _ already _ lose sleep because of me, and--” 

“You don’t hurt me,” Thomas said, and he actually sounded like he believed that. “We work together now, right? You’re my  _ friend,  _ Virgil.” 

“But I used to--” 

“You were doing what you thought you had to,” Thomas said, and Virgil tried not to think about how disgusted everyone used to look when he would enter a room, their contempt and hatred whenever he opened his mouth. “I’m...I’m really sorry I didn’t look closer or...or made sure you were  _ ok.”  _

Virgil shook his head, eyes on the ground. “You can’t blame yourself for that.” 

“Then you can’t either,” Thomas said, ignoring Virgil’s eye roll. “You...Virge, you do so much for me. I know it’s scary sometimes, but you can  _ always _ come and get me if you need me.” 

“I...I’m just...I’m tired of being a burden, Thomas.” And great, now he was  _ crying,  _ fat tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto his hands. He was probably making Thomas feel  _ awful.  _ “I shouldn’t have to bother everyone because I keep having dreams about people I don’t even have to  _ see  _ anymore!” 

Thomas was silent, the only noise in the bedroom both of their ragged breathing, both of them fighting to get ahold of themselves. Virgil hunched his shoulders, waiting for the worst, as usual. 

“You’re not a burden.” 

Virgil scoffed, wrapping his arms tight around himself. “I make everything harder for everyone. I’m- I’m always so much  _ work.  _ That’s...that’s literally the definition of a burden.” 

Thomas suddenly had a hand on Virgil’s knee, squeezing gently until he reluctantly lifted his head. Thomas wasn’t mad obviously, though Virgil had still been a bit wary. He wondered if he’d ever get out of the habit of waiting for anger. 

“It’s better than you being hurt or dead,” Thomas said, and Virgil’s breath caught in his throat. “Gosh- it’s  _ always  _ better than you being in pain. Yeah, you’re a little extra work sometimes, but do you think anyone minds? Trust me, nobody has ever gotten frustrated when you needed help. None of us want you to go through this alone. We just...we just like seeing you  _ safe.”  _

Virgil took in a shuddering breath, willing himself to hurry up and calm down so Thomas could go back to bed. “I...I know. I just...I feel like I should be over it by now.” 

He couldn’t bring himself to look Thomas in the eyes when he was finished, feeling suffocated by the silence, but he caught sight of a thoughtful frown when he risked a brief glance up. 

“Virge, I don’t...know all the details of what happened to you,” Thomas said, and Virgil was grateful for that at least. It was bad enough that Thomas knew  _ any  _ of it. “I just know that it was...bad. Really bad. Logan told me it’s...probably worse than I think.”

Virgil wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that, because that was probably true. He settled on a barely noticeable shrug. 

“There’s never a rush to work through something like this. I’m never gonna get annoyed or- or mad at you for needing some help. No matter how long it’s been. Moving on is hard, and I’m...I’m really sorry.”

That got Virgil to lift his head, still hunched over defensively. “Why’re  _ you  _ sorry?” 

“I’m sorry they did this to you,” Thomas said. “And I’m...I’m sorry I didn’t know. I keep feeling like I  _ should  _ have, and if I had seen it then I could have  _ stopped  _ it, and--” 

“Hey, if I can’t blame myself you can’t either.” He managed a teasing smirk, relieved when Thomas relaxed just a bit. “And it’s ok. There wasn’t anything you could have done.” 

Thomas looked like he wanted to argue, but considering it was the middle of the night and they were sitting in the dark on the floor, Virgil was grateful when he seemed content to drop the subject.

“You wanna talk about your nightmare?” Thomas asked after a moment. “Sorry, I should have asked sooner but—“

“Jeez stop apologizing, Sanders. You’re starting to sound like me, and no one wants that.” 

Thomas laughed, and Virgil was able to breathe a little easier. “I don’t think that’d be the worst thing in the world.” 

Neither of them spoke for a moment, but any tension in the room had seeped away, both of their breaths evening out and slowing back to a normal pace. It wasn’t until he caught Thomas stifling a yawn that Virgil remembered why he was even here in the first place. 

“You need to go to bed,” he said. “I’m fine, I’ll be fine. You can go back to sleep.” 

“I’m gonna take care of you first,” Thomas argued, and Virgil really didn’t have the energy to fight it right now. “You... _ did  _ kind of fall asleep on my floor, buddy.” 

Virgil forced himself not to flinch, even as his face grew hot. “I know, I didn’t mean to it’s- it’s just a bad night. I’m all...paranoid and jumpy. I’m just being stupid.” 

Thomas was still staring at him, silent and waiting, and Virgil deflated, letting out a quiet sigh and he resigned himself to whatever judgment he’d be given. 

“I was...worried about you,” he admitted. “I convinced myself something bad was gonna happen so I came to check on you and I just...couldn’t leave. I thought if I did something would happen to you and I...I know that’s stupid, you’re  _ fine  _ but--”

“It’s not stupid!” Thomas probably hadn’t meant to sound so rushed, and his face fell when Virgil shrank back. “It’s not...Virgil, it’s your  _ job.  _ You’re here to keep everybody safe, I know that.” 

It  _ was  _ his job and that was just part of the problem. He couldn't even stay awake long enough to make sure Thomas was safe. If he couldn’t do the one thing he was needed for, why would anyone keep him around? 

“I want to protect you,” Virgil managed, eyes on his own shaking hands. “I’m trying  _ so hard  _ to be good. I- I just want to be  _ good.  _ They told me every  _ day  _ that I wasn’t.”

“You are,” Thomas said, determined and steady like there was no other possibility. “You  _ are  _ good Virgil. You’re not a villain- you never were. No matter what they said. You are  _ not  _ what they made you out to be.” 

Thomas’s hand was on his shoulder again, holding tight, and Virgil leaned into the touch as the other arm came to wrap around the anxious side’s back and pull him into a hug, the angle a bit awkward on the floor but perfect all the same. 

He didn’t get it. He still didn’t understand why Thomas took the time to be so kind to him, to work with and understand Virgil instead of just hating him from a distance.

He wasn’t complaining, though. Not when Thomas’s hugs felt so safe. 

“How about this,” Thomas started, and Virgil reluctantly pulled away. “If you’re still worried, you can stay in here tonight. It’s ok if you can’t sleep- you can just...be on your phone on the other side of the bed if you want, but this way you’ll know I’m ok. And you’ll be here if something happens. That sound good?” 

And Virgil really shouldn't be getting emotional again, not over something so small that had been offered to him time and time again by the other sides. Maybe it was just because it was Thomas, who Virgil had been so deeply afraid of failing for so long. 

“That- that sounds good,” he said, smiling despite the way his voice cracked. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” Thomas smiled, taking Virgil’s hand and hoisting them both to their feet. “Anytime, Virge.” 

**+1.**

Virgil had just started to consider shutting off his music and making the responsible decision to go to bed when there was a knock on his door. He frowned, scooting forward on his bed and glancing at the time on his phone. It was almost three in the morning, (Virgil had completely lost track of time) who the hell was knocking so late? He’d been pretty sure everyone had gone to bed hours ago. 

There was a familiar spark of anxiety in his chest- because what if something  _ horrible  _ had happened- but he quickly forced it back down and pushed himself to his feet. 

A second knock never came, even when Virgil hesitated and zipped up his hoodie, a bit of extra protection he doubted he would even need. 

He finally unlocked and opened the door, and for a moment he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. 

“Oh- Virgil! You’re awake. I  _ do  _ hope I  _ am _ disturbing you.” Janus was in the hallway, leaned slightly up against the wall, looking more disheveled than Virgil had ever seen him before. He sounded almost nervous, a tone he didn’t often let people hear. 

“Dude, it’s the middle of the night,” Virgil said, though it was probably obvious he hadn’t been to bed yet. “Are you ok?” 

For a second Janus hesitated, eyes darting to the floor, and Virgil saw a storm of emotions flood through him, all of them quickly pushed away before he had a chance to identify what they meant. 

It was eerily familiar, though. 

“I’m perfectly alright,” Janus said, and it was possibly the worst lie Virgil had ever heard. “I was only...I saw that your light was on and I thought I’d  _ remind  _ you of the benefits of a good night’s sleep.”

Virgil frowned, taking in the snake’s too fast speech, the way he fiddled absently with his fingers, a nervous tick he tended to try and hide. “Jan--”

“And here I thought you listened to my lectures about self care. You hardly get enough sleep as it is, it’s no wonder you--” 

_ “Janus,”  _ Virgil said, firmer this time, because he knew what Janus sounded like when he was deflecting. He fell silent, slouching even more against the wall, and Virgil was momentarily taken aback by how  _ tired  _ he looked. “What’s wrong?” 

There wasn’t a response, Janus now stubbornly staring at nothing, and Virgil briefly wondered if he should run and grab Patton or Logan- or even Remus, who was arguably the one closest to Deceit. 

“You gotta tell me what’s going on,” Virgil tried. He reached forward to take Janus’s arm, the touch light and subtle, but he froze almost immediately after. “Jeez, you’re  _ shaking.”  _

Janus crumpled after that, the neutral facade he was clearly trying so hard to put on falling apart, and his shoulders curled into a defensive position Virgil knew all too well. He didn’t pull away though, and Virgil tightened his hold. 

“I...didn’t mean to come here,” Janus said. “I shouldn't be doing this to you.” 

“It’s fine,” Virgil said, even though his chest felt unbearably heavy. He took in the snake’s trembling, how pale the human side of his face was, the haunted look in his eyes that made Virgil feel like he was looking in a mirror. “Did you have a nightmare?” 

Janus stiffened, but nodded. “It’s silly. You don’t need to--” 

“It’s ok. Seriously, I think I’d be the biggest hypocrite in the world if I judged you right now. I have them all the time.” 

That only made Janus tense further, and Virgil heard him scoff. “So I’ve heard.” 

Virgil frowned, but pushed away the wave of anxiety brought by the bitterness in Janus’s voice. He knew better than to dwell on his tone when Janus might not even be fully aware of where he was. 

“Come on,” Virgil said softly as he stepped forward, hand still on Janus’s arm. “Let’s get you downstairs, you look like you’re about to pass out.” 

Virgil wondered how much sleep Janus had managed to get before the dream woke him up. It would be so much easier to just pull him inside and let him fall back asleep on the bed, but Virgil knew his room wasn’t always the best for calming people down. 

Janus thankfully didn’t argue as Virgil helped guide him down the hallway and the stairs, though he certainly looked like he wanted to. 

Virgil wasn’t used to this, to being the one on the opposite end, comforting someone else through a nightmare, but he figured it was long past time he returned the favor, even if he’d never worked up the courage to go to Janus for help. Talking about Virgil's past clearly made him uncomfortable, (Virgil completely understood that) and Janus seemed to barely get enough sleep as it was. 

Virgil only let go when Janus was lowering himself onto the couch, elbows on his knees as he stared straight ahead, his scales almost seeming to shimmer in the dim lighting. 

Virgil hesitated just for a moment before grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch, carefully draping it around Janus’s shoulders, who was watching him with something almost like curiosity. 

Virgil looked away, desperately trying to figure out what Patton would do in this situation. “Do you, uh...want some tea?” 

“No,” Janus snapped, no heat or malice behind it. “I want _ you  _ to go back to  _ bed  _ and stop acting like you care.”

Virgil felt a bit like he’d been punched, chest now cold and tight. “I  _ do  _ care.” 

“Oh, of  _ course  _ you do,” Janus drawled, scowling as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “You don’t need to pretend, Virgil. I can handle it.” 

Instinct was fighting to take over, telling him that Janus was  _ angry  _ and he needed to shut up and stop being so annoying before he got  _ hit- _

Janus wouldn’t hit him, Virgil knew that. Right now he was just defensive and scared, lashing out in a desperate attempt to get Virgil to leave him to fall apart on his own. 

“I’m not pretending,” he said. “I know I can be an overprotective asshole when it comes to Thomas but...I thought we were doing ok. I- I thought we were doing better, at least.” 

“You’re doing fine, Virgil.” Janus sighed, and some of the desperate fight leaked from his shoulders. “We’re fine. But I don’t want your help.” 

“You’re the one who knocked on my door,” Virgil pointed out. “And you know you’re not...actually  _ good  _ at lying, right?” 

“It’s a stupid thing to need help with. I’ll  _ manage.”  _

Virgil winced and tried to ignore the hurt blossoming in his chest. “So it’s stupid when I end up at someone’s door practically once a week?” 

“No,” Janus said quickly, and Virgil didn’t think he liked the guilt in his eyes. “I didn’t say that. It’s...that’s different.” 

“Am I the only one in the mindscape that deserves comfort?” 

_“Jesus-_ will you stop putting words in my mouth?” He snarled, and Virgil was silently amazed that he managed not to flinch. Maybe it was because Janus looked so small. “I didn’t say that. _I_ don’t need help with _this._ And you _certainly_ don’t have more important things to worry about. So why don’t you go back to bed and just let me handle it.”

Virgil didn’t have a response, and Janus wasn’t looking at him anymore, staring at the carpet where he was hunched over on the couch. The living room was silent, the ticking of a clock and soft breathing the only thing to combat the rising tension. 

Virgil wondered if he should just take the hint and leave, retreat back to his room and pretend like none of this happened in the morning. He knew how to pick up on when he wasn’t wanted, and he’d been screamed out of a room more times than he could count. 

But Janus wasn’t sending out those signs. Janus lashing out felt more like a cry for help he didn’t quite know how to articulate. Virgil could relate to that. 

So instead of turning around, he took a careful step forward, ignoring Janus’s frown as he moved around the coffee table to sit on the couch, careful to keep a few inches of space between them. 

“What are you doing?” 

Virgil shrugged, fiddling with his hoodie sleeves in his lap. “I’m gonna sit with you until you feel better. Having company can help sometimes.” 

Janus scoffed again, but he at least didn’t move away or demand Virgil leave. He didn’t seem inclined to say anything more, stiff and silent...and still shaking. 

“Do...do you wanna talk about it?” 

Janus sent Virgil a glare that held no heat at all. “Go on Virgil, ask me a third time. Maybe  _ then _ I’ll change my mind.” His voice broke on the last word, and he was instantly looking away again, shoulders hunching just a bit further.

“You know this doesn’t work on me, right?” Virgil asked. “You might be able to fool Patton or Logan, but I know what you’re doing. I...I know what it feels like to think you don’t deserve help. You’re scared and you’re trying to drive away the people who can help because you can’t trust it. You don’t...you don’t want to be judged. Or hurt even worse.” 

Janus somehow found it in him to tense even more, hands clasped together in a white knuckled grip. “I’m not hurting.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Virgil said. “And we both know it.” 

“I  _ shouldn’t  _ be hurting over this.” 

Virgil hesitated, thinking back to the countless times he’d said something similar, to his own guilt and shame that still never really left him alone. 

“You know,” he said carefully. “Logan likes to tell me that there isn’t a  _ should  _ or  _ shouldn’t  _ when it comes to this stuff. You can’t control if you’re hurting or not.”

“Well,” Janus replied, voice small and unsteady. “Logan is far too self assured for his own good.” 

Virgil knew they had both seen enough evidence to argue the opposite, but now wasn’t the time. 

“He’s saved my life,” Virgil said, pausing to take a steadying breath. “Everyone here has helped me so much and I just...I want to help someone too. I want to help you, if you’ll let me.” 

Janus finally turned to him, but not before Virgil caught him swiping at his eyes. “And you’re very  _ sweet,  _ Virgil. Though I can’t imagine  _ why,  _ seeing as I can’t seem to return the favor.” 

He was clearly going for snark, to keep his usual sarcastic tone, but it wasn’t hard to pick up on the wobble in Janus’s voice, the way he quickly turned his head when his eyes grew shiny. 

“What the hell are you talking about? You  _ do.”  _

“How?” Janus demanded. “By  _ not  _ hitting you? By  _ not  _ leaving you to hyperventilate until you pass out from panic attacks?” 

_ “Yes.”  _ Virgil scooted forward, heart sinking when Janus moved back. “I know it might seem small to you but...look, little things like that mean the  _ world  _ to me and--”

“Yes, because it’s  _ totally  _ acceptable for me to do the bare minimum when this is  _ my  _ fault in the first place.” 

Virgil blinked, frozen like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. He’d known Janus felt guilty for not stopping the treatment sooner- everyone did to some extent (Virgil hated that, and he’d done everything he could to reassure them) but he...Janus didn’t actually  _ blame himself,  _ did he? 

“Jan--” 

“Oh, don’t try to tell me I’m wrong,” Janus said, and he was back to sounding drained and tired. “Everything that happened to you, happened because of  _ me.”  _

“I don’t remember you  _ asking _ Wrath to beat me every day.”

“But I was  _ there,”  _ Janus argued. “I was there, and I let them get away with it. I looked away every time and I  _ let  _ them hurt you, Virgil. I was the only one who could have stepped in and I did  _ nothing.”  _

“You didn’t know.” 

“Because I refused to look closer. I _could_ have stopped it, but I let myself stay in denial.” 

“Remus was there,” Virgil reminded him. “Am I supposed to blame him too?” 

Maybe he was being a bit harsh, channeling Logan’s type of comfort when that wasn’t always what everyone needed, but he couldn’t help the rush of defensiveness the words brought. 

_ “Remus  _ can’t sense lies,” Janus said. “He’s worse at taking a hint than his brother. I never trusted the Others, and I  _ watched  _ you close yourself off. You and I both know I could have stopped it, Virgil. Stop pretending like you don’t hold it against me.” 

“I don’t.” Janus and Remus had only found out about the abuse a couple months ago...how long had Janus been feeling like this? “Janus I  _ don’t.  _ You can’t actually think--”

“Well then, _ why _ do you always have to remind me just how much I’ve failed you every time we’re in the same _ room?”  _

Janus had tears streaming down his face now, staining scales and human skin alike, more appearing no matter how desperately he wiped them away. Virgil wasn’t far behind, once again frozen in the silence that followed. 

“I know you can’t trust me,” Janus said, voice raw and broken. “You avoid me when you have attacks, you won’t even  _ talk  _ about the Others when I’m around, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ll go to  _ anyone else  _ after a nightmare.” 

Virgil felt like he was being crushed, panic and grief fighting for control, and he wondered if this was how he’d made everyone else feel so many times. 

Because he had been doing those things, but Janus had it all  _ wrong.  _

“I’m not  _ blind,  _ Virgil,” he continued. “So I would appreciate it if you--” 

“I trust you,” Virgil blurted before he can stop himself, chest tightening at the doubtful look Janus sent him. “You would know if I was lying, right? Am I lying to you now?” 

Janus hesitated, wary and suspicious. “No. You’re not.” 

“I’m not. Because it’s...it’s not...I’m  _ sorry.”  _ God, why was he so bad at being  _ good?  _ He’d just tried to help and he’d made everything worse again _.  _ “I was just...Patton lost a lot of sleep when I first told him what happened. I was...trying to help you distance yourself from it. I could tell you weren’t sleeping so...I thought it’d help.” 

Janus looked taken aback, watery eyes now widened slightly, watching Virgil like he was analyzing every little word that came out of his mouth. “You were…”

“I was trying to help,” Virgil said. “I thought if I asked for help with nightmares it would make you feel guilty. It wasn’t….it wasn’t because I don’t  _ trust you,  _ Janus. I don’t blame you. I’ve  _ never _ blamed you for what happened.” 

A beat of silence, holding an unspeakable amount of weight. “Oh.” 

Neither of them spoke for a moment, Janus’s hands fiddling with the end of the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. Virgil had never seen him like this, even back on Thomas’s couch when they’d finally talked. When Janus had desperately begged Virgil to believe that he and Remus hadn’t known. 

“The dream was about you,” Janus said, after what felt like hours. “It happens sometimes.” 

Virgil hunched his shoulders, not really knowing what to say to that. “What, uh...what did I do?” 

Had he managed to push Janus so far he was having  _ nightmares  _ about him? Had he hurt Janus in the dream? Had he said something horrible? Had he-

“You died.” Janus curled in on himself, voice wobbly and small. “Usually...you’re being hurt or- or dragged away, and I just...have to stand there. Doing nothing to stop it. Tonight it...just wouldn’t  _ end.”  _

Virgil’s heart clenched, the pain and fear in the snake’s voice something he was so intimately familiar with. He’d never wanted anyone else to feel like this. 

Taking a risk, Virgil slowly reached forward to cover Janus’s clenched fist with his own hand. Janus didn’t relax, not in the slightest, but he didn’t make a move to pull away. 

“I watched them kill you,” he said, and Virgil didn’t need to ask who he meant. “I  _ never _ wanted you to know about this but...I needed to see you. I needed to see that you were ok.” 

Virgil squeezed his hand, and Janus’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m ok. We’re both ok, Janus. I’m...I’m safe.” 

It barely sounded convincing to his own ears. How was he supposed to offer comfort when they were both so deeply terrified of the same thing? 

And Janus seemed to pick up on that, shutting his eyes and turning away. “You don’t even believe that.” 

“Not always,” Virgil admitted, because denial would get them nowhere. “But I’m trying, because I know...I  _ know  _ you won’t let anything happen to me again. And I know if you could’ve stopped it earlier you would have. I trust you, Janus. I  _ do.”  _

Janus was watching him now, his death grip on the blanket loosened a bit. He wasn’t bothering to hide his tears anymore, and it took Virgil a moment to realize his own eyes were pooling with unshed tears, everything going a bit blurry. 

“I won’t let it happen again,” Janus said, a quiet promise he’d already silently made weeks ago. “This...is selfish, isn’t it? I’m being selfish.” 

“I don’t think so.” Virgil scooted closer, relieved when Janus didn’t pull back this time. “But you’re the one who says a little selfishness is good sometimes.” 

Janus laughed, the sound still a bit broken and desperate, but lighter all the same. “So you  _ do  _ listen to me.” 

“Occasionally.” 

They stayed where they were as the minutes passed, Virgil tracing faint patterns with his thumb along Janus’s hand while the silence took over again, softer and less confining than before. 

At some point Janus shifted so he was leaning against Virgil’s side, his head dropping to the anxious side’s shoulder. Virgil hoped he was close enough to hear his heartbeat, a gentle reminder that Virgil was safe and alive. It was something small that always helped him relax after a nightmare. 

“Do you want to sleep out here?” Virgil whispered, already ready to sit here the entire night if it was what Janus needed. 

But there was no response, Janus’s eyes closed and his face slack when Virgil glanced down. He still looked exhausted somehow, pale and face stained with dried tears, but his breathing had evened out and his hands had fallen limp at his sides. 

Virgil couldn’t help but smile, reaching over to grab a pillow and move it to the end of the couch before carefully guiding them both back until they were laying down, Janus rested on Virgil’s chest. 

He pulled the blanket up around both of them and wrapped his arms around the other side, smiling when Janus gave a content sigh in his sleep. 

“I’m here,” Virgil said, just like everyone else had done for him so many times before. “We’re ok.”    
  



End file.
